


Pulse

by notyourown



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, References to Canon, Sherlock in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 09:58:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9379427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourown/pseuds/notyourown
Summary: Just another one of your good, old love confession fics.Why? Because they deserve it.





	

It was a typical Friday at 221B Baker Street. Sherlock was off god knows where, doing god knows what. John got back from the clinic and had the afternoon to himself. Rosie was at Molly's for the day and he could take some time for himself. He had been looking forward to this, getting some peace and quiet and letting his mind wander without a permanent destination. It had been a long week and Sherlock couldn't find an interesting enough case so John tried to keep himself busy in the clinic and endure this utter boredom that was creeping up on him. The end result wasn't what he had expected, yes, he passed the time, but not in a pleasant, unpredictable way he prefered. The work in the clinic was tedious and  by noon at Friday, he couldn't wait to get home into his chair and relax. He just hoped that by Monday, Sherlock will have found a case and they could get back to having fun and he could see Sherlock smile again and they could hang out casually, just spend some more time together, talk, run, laugh. They could be what they were again and John could get that rush of adrenaline he craved for and then he could spend another week asking himself if the cause of that rush was the case or something else. Someone else.

He was lying in his chair, his eyes closed, trying not to think. It wasn't working. His mind kept going back to stolen glances he'd always notice Sherlock give him when he spoke about pretty much anything. He tried not to think of Sherlock's smile when John got a deduction right, and his even wider smile when John got it all wrong. God knows those were way more frequent. He tried to stop himself from feeling Sherlock's arms around him when they hugged, tender, holding him close.

_It was just a hug, John. It's been months. Let it go already._

But it wasn't just a hug, it was everything John denied to having needed and nothing has been the same for him since. Like that single gesture opened a Pandora's box in his mind and he couldn't close it back, he couldn't shove the content back in because it was liquidy, no, no, it was gas, spreading all around, unable to be contained anywhere ever again. He suddenly felt so much more, read into so much more and he could do very little to stop himself from looking at Sherlock like someone who could- but, no. He couldn't. Doesn't need romantic entanglement to complete him as a human being, he doesn't even know what that means, he has no desire of ever finding out. And if he did, he wouldn't want John to be on the recieving end of his- affection? If anyone, it would be The Woman, and even she couldn't break that barrier because Sherlock doesn't want it broken.

It was clear as day, all of it, and yet John couldn't help himself but dream. He opened his eyes, eager to do something to keep his mind occupied otherwise. The flat was a mess, as always, some cleaning would come in handy. He walked to the table and started sorting out the messy papers, important stuff to the pile on the left, rubbish to the pile on the right. Whenever he'd feel like he was getting to the bottom of it, some kind of magic made papers multiply and John felt as if he was standing above a bottomless pit. Just when he was about to give up and go make some tea, he came across a big, sealed envelope. The word _confidential_ were stamped onto it. He opened it.

Inside of it was a CD. _God, why is it always a CD?_ Next to it was a note. He read it.

_Here is the last copy of the video, as you requested. I assure you the rest of them have been destroyed. MH_

John frowned and inspected the CD for a while before playing it.

It was filmed with a low quality camera, probably a phone and in the focus was a bearded man. He looked like a stray. Only when he spoke did John recognize that voice, that beautiful baritone, and realized it was Sherlock Holmes behind that facade.

_John, if you're seeing this, I'm dead somewhere. Hopefully Mycroft comes through and lets you have this recording. I know the phonecall was supposed to be my note, but I wasn't really dying then. I thought I'd see you again. Now I'm not so sure anymore. Anyway, the point of this, John, is my obsessive-compulsive need not to leave anything unfinished. I'm sorry if you find it selfish, but I need you to know this. God, I never thought I'd be saying this aloud, let alone to a phone camera. It isn't quite dramatic enough, but it will have to do. Let's move forward to the point, I- uh- I hope you're doing well. I hope you're not hurting because of me. You are so much stronger, John, than you admit. You have endured so much and so much of it was because of me and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for putting you through some rough times and I'm sorry for dying, but I- I don't regret any of it. Well, perhaps I regret the dying part a little. You taught me so much more than you could ever know, you made me see the meaning of friendship and companionship and- love. I'm forever in your debt, John Watson. You made me realise I wasn't as different from everybody else as I had thought before I met you and you made me realise that wasn't such a bad thing. You, nobody else, John, but you, made me realise I'm entirely human and I tried to deny it for a long time but I- I never could. You taught me how to love, John Watson, and I didn't know what to do with it. I didn't know how to love you properly and I will forever regret not trying harder. The truth is, John, I love you. I have loved and needed you, in every way, for as long as I've known you. And I'm sorry to spring this all out on you like it's nothing, but I hope you can appreciate the sentiment. Have a nice life, doctor, and never let love scare you like it scared me. Goodbye, John Watson._

"John, I-" He heard a voice behind him and he turned his head around, startled. "I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to see that." Sherlock said, distracted, distraught, and reached for the CD from the player. John remained silent as tears filled his eyes and his fingers wrapped around the smooth leather of his chair. Sherlock took the CD and walked to the door silently.

"Stop." John whispered. "Stop." He yelled now. Sherlock turned around, inhaling deeply, and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"You- did you really mean all that?" John asked and got up from his chair, swallowing nervously.

"I was dying, John,  my head was a mess-"

"So you didn't mean it, then?" He interrupted.

"No, no, I did. I meant every word." Sherlock announced and shot a look straight to John's eyes.

John shook his head and laughed nervously. "So you were never planning on telling me, were you? Years passed and you had no intention of saying anything to me." He shook his head once more. Sherlock said nothing, but kept his look on John and John watched as the tension in his body rose. "Do you still feel that way?" He asked. "Huh?" Sherlock bit his lip, but he never spoke. "Answer me." The demand was firm on his lips. "Answer me!" He was yelling now and before he knew it he was in Sherlock's space, holding his shoulders firmly, shaking him. "Answer me." He repeated once more, a little softer, but still loud, his words forcing Sherlock to close his eyes. "Look at me, Sherlock, and answer my question. Do you still feel that way?"

Sherlock opened his eyes. "Yes." was all he was able to say.

John inhaled. "So when were you planning on telling me?"

Sherlock inhaled, uncomfortable with John being so close to him that he could smell his cologne and trees, he could smell trees. "John, you were married. Then she died and-"

"So never?" John asked, his voice almost a whisper. He could feel his throat tighten and his pulse accelerate. Sherlock just kept looking at him, the CD still in his hand, their bodies still close enough to feel each other's every breath. John's hand trembled as he took Sherlock's wrist. "Pulse elevated. Pupils dilated." He noted and Sherlock closed his eyes. "Look at me." John said firmly and took Sherlock's hand, wrapping it around his wrist. Sherlock opened his eyes. "Love isn't a mystery to you. Go on, deduce." It came out as a challenge and John realised just how well he knew the man across from him, his mind subconciously shaping his words to intrigue Sherlock into doing something, saying something, anything.

Sherlock observed. "You- you love me. Of course you do, how could I not have seen this before, you were so alone and you owe me so much, that's what you said, that's what you said to me, and I ignored it, I interpreted it as a friendly gesture, which it was, but it was so much more, wasn't it? But, no, you didn't want to- you weren't- You aren't- That wasn't it. I mean, of course that was it, but you didn't know it back then. You didn't know it when you met Mary. You didn't know it when you married her. You didn't know it when she died. You would have felt way too guilty, you, Dr John Watson, always so hung up on morality and devotion and truth. No, it was later. When was it? You have been acting kind of strange since- Oh. That must have been it, then." He stopped, thinking. The next thing John felt was gentle arms wrapping around him, holding him close, Sherlock's warmth radiating onto him. John felt his body relax in the embrace and just like that, the anger was all gone and all that was left was joy.

Sherlock and John were in their flat and in each other's arms. In that moment, everything was right in the world.

In that moment, the world was just a playground for their happiness.

When John cupped his face and kissed him slowly, Sherlock felt the same notion rise inside of him.


End file.
